


4 Times Sonny Was Sexy By Accident in Front of Rafael (and 1 Time the Squad Experienced It)

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, but you get the idea, except it's four, squad cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: I mean...the title





	4 Times Sonny Was Sexy By Accident in Front of Rafael (and 1 Time the Squad Experienced It)

*1*  
On their first date, Sonny opens the car door and the restaurant door for Rafael; he takes his coat, and he pulls out his chair. Rafael mentally rolls his eyes at the chivalry--especially given the snark-based friendship that got them here--but doesn't say anything. If Sonny wants to pull out the good Staten Island boy manners to impress Rafael, he'll let him. 

Rafael fucks him that night. Not because of the manners but because he's been fantasizing about it for months and Sonny drags him into his own apartment by his lapels. 

The next morning when they decide to go to brunch, Sonny opens the car door, and the restaurant door. It's a warm day, so Sonny doesn't take his coat, but he does pull out Rafael's chair.

"You already got laid," Rafael can't help but say. "No need to continue to impress me with your manners."

"Huh?" Sonny says as he takes his own seat. "What do you mean?"

Rafael studies his face, certain Sonny's teasing, but Sonny looks honestly confused. "The chair, the doors, taking my jacket last night? You don't need to be a perfect gentleman."

Sonny looks Rafael up and down. "Pretty sure perfect gentlemen don't fuck on the first date," he says, his grin flashing wicked for a moment. 

The server comes over to take their drink order before Rafael can reply, and the conversation gets dropped in favor of choosing what to eat. 

The next time they go out, they take the subway, but Sonny holds his hand out towards the door so it can't slide closed on Rafael. He holds open the door of the restaurant, and he pulls out Rafael's chair. 

The same again for their fourth date, then their fifth. By their sixth, Rafael discovers he's pausing so Sonny can open his door and take his jacket and pull out his chair. By their eighth, Sonny's using each opportunity to press a kiss to Rafael's cheek or temple or the top of his head. 

It becomes completely expected, but Rafael can't help the soft effusion of arousal that goes through him every time Sonny does it. Sonny wanting to be close to him. Sonny wants to make it clear to everyone around them that he cares about Rafael, that he takes care of him in little, old-fashioned ways not because he's a polite Staten Island boy but because he thinks Rafael is worth those little gestures and small kisses.

There's sexiness in devotion, Rafael realizes, in looking at someone and knowing that they're putting in a tiny bit more effort to quietly remind you that they care for you deeply.

"I love you," Sonny says the morning after their fourteenth date. He's propped up on his elbow and looking down at Rafael as they laze in bed together. "I've loved you for awhile."

"I could tell," Rafael replies, no snark in his voice, just the warmth and happiness Sonny always gives back to him. "I love you, too."

 

*2*  
"Detective Carisi," the defense attorney--a man named Oscar Dawson with overstyled hair--says, the slightly snide edge in his voice asking the jury to realize this guy's kind of a dope, "do you mind discussing the exact nature of your plain-sight search so we can be sure all the details are correct?"

"I'm happy to," Sonny says, and he gives the jury a quick smile.

Rafael leans back in his chair waiting to see exactly how Dawson is going to tackle this. He covered the plain-sight search in direct, making certain that Sonny stated that no, he hadn't had a warrant when he looked at the suspect's phone. Dawson had already tried to get the evidence on the guy's phone tossed claiming it violated plain-sight exception, but the judge had refused.

"Now, you just told the court that you were looking over my client's shoulder when you saw a photo of the woman accusing my client of violent acts. Is that correct?"

"I saw a photo of a 14-year-old girl on a 24-year-old's phone, yes," Sonny says, face bland. 

Rafael lightly clenches his jaw so the jury doesn't catch him grinning at Sonny's wording. Sonny had come up with that himself in prep, expecting that Dawson would try to play down the massive age difference.

Dawson looks unflustered that Sonny managed to remind the jury exactly how large and illegal the age difference is. "Did my client know that you were looking over his shoulder?"

"I assumed so," Sonny says.

"But you don't know for certain?"

"I assumed so," Sonny repeats, no concern about his answer in his body language or tone.

Rafael knows Dawson is trying to come up with a way to phrase the question that will make Sonny give him a flat yes or no.

"So, you acknowledge that it's possible my client didn't realize you were looking over his shoulder?" 

Not a bad try, Rafael thinks.

"Well, I'm kinda hard to miss," Sonny says, waving a hand at himself. A couple of jurors smile.

"Answer the question, please, detective," Dawson says. He doesn't sound annoyed, but Rafael can see a bit of tension in his shoulders.

"Oh, sorry," Sonny says, all gracious apology. "I suppose it's possible he didn't notice me."

"Thank you." Dawson walks over to his table and leans against it, clearly feeling like he's gotten the questioning back on track. "And would you agree that by not realizing you were there, he had a certain expectation of privacy in viewing his phone?" 

"No."

Dawson shifts his footing, clearly surprised at the answer. "No?"

"No," Sonny repeats. "I don't believe your client had an expectation of privacy in looking at his phone," he adds when Dawson doesn't fill the silence with a follow-up question.

"It's his phone, is it not?"

"Yes," Sonny agrees.

"He was holding it in his hand?"

"Yes."

"And holding it up to his own line of sight."

"Yes."

"But you believe he had no expectation of privacy?"

"No." 

Rafael watches the way Dawson doesn't move, holding himself very still and obviously not wanting to ask the question he has to ask. But it's the only question he can ask because he guessed wrong about what Sonny's answer would be about right to privacy, and proving his client had that right violated is at the center of his case.

It takes Dawson almost a full minute before he opens his mouth. "Tell us, detective, why do you believe he has no expectation of privacy on his own phone?" The jurors look intrigued, though number nine carries an undercurrent of anger on his face. He's the one whose girlfriend found out he was cheating when she checked his phone after she'd heard a rumor, Rafael remembers from voir dire. Having a cop say someone doesn't have a right to privacy on their own phone has to sting.

"He was looking at his phone in a public place," Sonny answers. "Anyone could have seen what he was looking at. If not me, someone walking by or someone who sat next to him on the train later that day."

"I see," Dawson says, tapping his fingers against his table. The undercurrent of anger on juror number nine's face has mellowed. "May I see your phone, detective?" Dawson asks, holding out his hand.

Sonny cuts a quick glance to Rafael to give him a chance to object. Rafael shrugs. He's not sure what Dawson is doing, but he'd prefer to hold any objections until he really needs them. 

"Sure," Sonny says and fishes his phone from his jacket. He hands it to Dawson. Dawson presses the home button to make it light up. 

"Cute kid," Dawson says, holding up the phone so the jury can see the photo on screen. "Yours?"

"My goddaughter," Sonny says, a grin breaking free because it always does when he talks about Jesse.

"That's nice," Dawson says. He taps Sonny's screen, then holds the phone out to him. "Would you enter your unlock code, detective?"

"No," Sonny says.

"No?" Dawson asks, the faux-confusion a little too thick if you ask Rafael. "A courtroom is a public place, detective. You have no expectation of privacy here."

"You're right," Sonny agrees. "If I was sitting here on my phone and the judge looked over and saw something, that's on me. But I don't have to unlock my phone for you. And your client didn't have to unlock it for me or my partner."

Rafael can practically taste the fear Dawson is suddenly soaked in. Rafael had intentionally left out the part of Sonny's report that explained how the defendant to unlock his phone in his direct questioning just in case Dawson might think he was using it to hide something and step on his own toes. It appears the trick worked.

"You're an officer of the law. My client respects the police. You don't think he'd feel compelled to unlock his phone if you asked?"

"We didn't ask," Sonny says. "When my partner and I were questioning him about this case, he said he had spent the evening in question with a friend. When we asked what friend, he gave us a name, then unlocked his phone to get their number without us asking. I was standing to the side as we talked and looked over as he was doing so, and that's how I saw the photo on his background of the 14-year-old girl in her underwear."

Juror number nine looks angry again, but it's not at Sonny this time. It's at the defendant. The defendant is glaring at Dawson. Dawson's clenching Sonny's phone like he might snap it from sheer force of will. 

"May I have my phone back?" Sonny asks, holding out his hand, polite as you please.

Dawson hands it back, then walks to his table, flipping through his notes. 

"Mr. Dawson," the judge says after she gives him three minutes to pick his next question, "it's lunch time. You will continue your cross after we've all had a bite to eat."

Dawson nods sharply. "That's fine, your honor."

"Detective, you may step down for now. We'll re-call you when Mr. Dawson is ready."

"Of course, your Honor," Sonny says, standing and giving the jury a quick nod of recognition as he steps out of the witness box.

"Court is dismissed for one hour," the judge says and bangs her gavel.

The jury is led out as the gallery empties. Sonny walks over to Rafael and waits in silence until Dawson and his client have left with the bailiffs trailing them. 

"Five bucks says he comes back requesting a plea before we've ordered food," Sonny says.

Rafael chuckles and lifts his briefcase. "I hope he takes a little longer than that."

"What? You enjoy watching me wind him up that much?" Sonny asks, eyes bright with his triumph. 

"It was very nice," Rafael admits as they walk out of the courtroom. "But I'm more concerned he'll interrupt the blowjob I was going to insist on giving you for being that fucking brilliant on the stand," he says in a whisper only Sonny will hear.

"Oh, Rafael," Sonny says, the teasing tone a flash of promise on Rafael's skin, "make sure you don't take your time. I'd hate to leave you unsatisfied before a plea bargain."

"Maybe you should go first, then," Rafael says as they step out of the courthouse and swing around the side of the building to miss the reporters on the front steps. "Just in case he calls as quickly as you think."

 

*3*  
Rafael walks in the door after a thirteen hour day and sags in relief when Sonny greets him with a beer, a kiss, and the words, "I made dinner."

Rafael's spent the week living off take-out and leftovers in his office as he's tried to piece together the case, and hot, homemade food sounds like heaven. "I wish I had the energy to throw you on the floor and fuck you in thanks."

Sonny kisses Rafael again and takes his briefcase from his hand. "I'll take a rain check."

 

*4*  
They're getting a drink in lieu of a full-on date night because what started as a pretty mild Tuesday turned into a bit of a grind. They're both out of their suit jackets with their sleeves rolled up. Sonny's completely forgone his tie and opened the first two buttons of his shirt. Rafael's only loosened his tie, but his top button is free. 

Side-by-side at the bar, Sonny can crowd in close, pressing the whole, long shape of himself against Rafael. Rafael leans against him in return, enjoying the way Sonny's body shifts against his own as they duck their heads together to talk. 

The bar is crowded and noisy, but there's no mistaking the sudden, sharp yell of someone in trouble.

Sonny turns instantly, standing on the bottom rung of his stool to get a better view of the room. Rafael stays put, knowing from experience that Sonny will intervene if he thinks it's necessary and there's no way to stop him.  
"Back in a second," Sonny says over his shoulder.

"Knight in shining dumbass," Rafael mutters into his drink, shaking his head. There's another yelp, deeper this time, and then a shout.

Rafael turns from the bar, drink held loosely in one hand, and waits for Sonny to burst from the crowd and tell him about some unfortunate idiot he handed off to a manager to deal with. He's not prepared for the crowd to part so Sonny can angrily march a man towards the front door. He's got the guy's arms behind his back, holding his wrists in one hand while he grips his other tight in the back of the man's shirt. His hair's tousled, and his shirt has been yanked to one side. He's walking from the hips, stance wide, and every line of his body radiates anger and disappointment.

"What'd I say, huh?" Sonny yells as he shakes the guy by the back of his shirt. "I said leave the lady alone or get your ass kicked. You didn't leave the lady alone, and now you got your ass kicked. You did this to yourself you fucking idiot. All you had to do was not be a fucking idiot. But you couldn't do it. You had to be a fucking idiot."

Sonny pushes the guy out of the front door of the bar and follows after him. No doubt to berate him some more. It takes Rafael a moment to come back to himself as the noise in the bar picks up again. He turns around in his seat and gulps the rest of his drink, the sudden parched feeling in his throat surprising but not unwelcome. 

Rafael's never had reason to see Sonny manhandle an uncooperative suspect before. He's never thought much about it. He's seen other cops do it, and it's never looked anything but slightly painful and annoying.

But Sonny walking through the room with so much authority the crowd parted for him? Sonny slightly tousled but in control? Sonny angry and frustrated and shaking a guy twice his width by the back of his shirt like he weighs nothing?

"Hey," Sonny says as he walks up behind Rafael and places a hand on his back. "Sorry about--"

Rafael half turns and splays a hand on Sonny's chest before Sonny sits down. "Take me home, tie me up, and fuck me." 

Sonny jerks in surprise. "Um. Yeah. Sure. If you want." His smile is encouraging but clueless. He has no idea, Rafael realizes, exactly what he looks like when he takes charge. 

"I definitely want," Rafael replies. He manages to wait until they're out of the bar and waiting for the Lyft before he grabs Sonny and kisses him breathless. 

"Shit, Rafael," Sonny breathes against his mouth. "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but you feel free to tell me if you want a repeat."

"Tell you later," Rafael says.

Sonny makes a noise that Rafael takes as agreement as he kisses him breathless again.

 

*5*  
"What the hell are you wearing?" Amanda greets Sonny as he walks into the squad room.

Sonny looks down at himself and shrugs. "Jogging stuff," he says.

"Jogging stuff," Amanda repeats, giving him the look that says he's missing the point.

"Yeah. I got the all hands call when I was jogging, so I just came over. I've got a spare set of clothes in my locker."

"That is _not_ the point."

Sonny waves his hands out from his body. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say, Amanda. You're acting like this is weird."

"I--"

"Carisi, you're here," Olivia says as she steps out of her office, looking at her iPad. She looks up and stops short. "What are you wearing?"

Sonny sighs heavily. "I was jogging when you called me in for this," Sonny says. "I would think that would be obvious."

Olivia gives Sonny a once-over and glances at Amanda who tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

"Hey, no," Sonny says, pointing at Amanda, "I know your 'men are being stupid' look. I'm not being stupid. I just don't get what's so shocking about the fact I jog."

"It's not _that_ you jog…" Olivia begins, looking Carisi over again. "It's…" she pauses and shakes her head, looking at Amanda again. "Help."

"How?" she asks.

"Carisi, why the hell are you wearing daisy dukes in the squad room?" Fin asks as he comes out of the breakroom with coffee. He doesn't break stride. "Your work out clothes shrink in the wash or something?"

"Oh thank god," Amanda mutters.

"They're jogging clothes," Sonny says to Fin, looking ready to heave another sigh. "It's a hundred degrees. I'm not looking to have heatstroke."

"Pretty sure you gave it to a few other people," Amanda says, looking pointedly at Sonny's shorts.

He looks down. "Okay, again. Jogging clothes. Jogging shorts are short. That's how they're made."

"Sometimes, yes," Amanda says.

Sonny rolls his eyes. "You all are acting like you've never seen a guy in workout clothes. I mean, come on, half the city wears these in the summer."

"Not in the squad room," Fin says and high fives Amanda when she holds out her hand.

"And most of them don't do it with a crop top," Olivia adds, clearly trying to fight a smile.

Sonny throws up his hands, which pulls his crop top up almost far enough to show his nipples. "It's a _hundred_ degrees," he says. "I don't like the way shirts stick to me when I run, so I wear this because I don't like to run shirtless."

"SIx of one," Amanda mutters.

"Liv, I got your--oh for god's sake," Rafael says as he walks into the squad and stops short at the sight of Sonny. "You couldn't go home and change?"

"I was closer to here than I was to there," Sonny answers. "And you know what? I'm not taking this shit from you, too."

Rafael glances at the squad, then back at Sonny. "This shit?" he asks.

Sonny groans and throws his arms wide. "Whatever they're all freaking out about."

"I'm not freaking out," Fin says. "I'm just worried your balls are gonna fall out of those shorts."

"I'm changing!" Sonny announces as he turns and walks towards the locker room.

Amanda and Olivia watch him go, and when they turn back, Rafael's giving them an annoyed look. "Really? You're checking out his ass on company time?"

"We learned it from watching you," Olivia says sweetly.

"No wonder you're looking trimmer, Barba," Amanda says. "I'd be jogging a lot too if I could follow that ass down the street."

Rafael sighs. "And here I thought you and Sonny were just good friends."

"A good ass is a good ass," Fin says. "You don't have to want it to appreciate it."

"That," Amanda says.

"Wasn't there an emergency?" Rafael asks Liv. "Something about a possible spree rapist that required all of us to get here ASAP?"

"Yes," Olivia says, holding up her iPad. "But in my defense, I wasn't expecting Carisi to show up looking like--"

"Do not finish that sentence," Rafael interrupts. "I don't want to know."

Olivia swallows a laugh and leads the way to the conference table. She's getting the maps to display on the big board when Sonny comes out of the locker room in slacks and a button down. Amanda gives him hell about covering up as he sits down, and as he replies, Olivia leans down so she's right next to Rafael's ear. "You bought him that top, didn't you?"

"Are you kidding? I bought him the whole outfit," Rafael murmurs. "Rollins isn't wrong about the view, and he has no idea he looks like that."

Olivia shakes her head. "Well, warn us next time. We've got to work with the man."

"I make no promises," Rafael replies and gives Olivia a guileless look that has her rolling her eyes before she straightens up to start the briefing.

**Author's Note:**

> Barisi twitter had a GREAT list of ways Sonny could be sexy. Very fun to see all the ideas people came up with.


End file.
